Final Fantasy: Tales of Beginings
by Vexed
Summary: I had an idea to occasionally write short stories to show how some of the various classes in Final Fantasy might have first come about. Enjoy.


Those to Whom Evil is Done...

They fell like snowflakes.

The wind, a warm breath of summer, swept through the night, carrying them as they danced through the air, little flakes that glowed in the light of the moon high above. That heavenly body watched it all as, gently, almost peacefully, one flake of ash settled on the back of Matthew's hand. Like a tiny, fragile flake of snow, it melted, soaked into fresh, warm blood until it was gone.

All of them. Gone.

He looked up, his eyes glassy as his mind swam through the scene before him. Like a vision of hell. The world burned in the valley where once a village had stood. His men, those that were left, lay motionless all around him, flat on their faces or toppled against burning ruins. Good men. Strong men. All gone.

Those that did not lie lifeless on the ground now danced on the wind. Little embers falling like flakes of ashen snow that once were men and women he had vowed to protect. Soldiers and citizens, men, women, children. All of them reduced to ashes.

Before him stood the beast, towering over the infernal remains of the temple, wreathed in flame and plumes of black smoke as its eyes burned brighter than even this horrid scape.

Why?

It's eyes burned down on him from its perch.

How could the goddess have allowed this? He was her Paladin. A Holy Knight of Terra. They all had been...so why had she allowed them to fail so?

He could no longer feel her warmth within him. Had he been abandoned? Had the order wronged her in some way? He had always felt it, since he was taught to use the power of the white mages, to reach out to the divine for strength in battle, a spark, a warmth. All he had done, he had ever done was for the people and for her. He and his brothers had lived proud, virtuous lives.

The demon lifted its head to the sky and roared, triumphantly, gouts of flame erupting from its gaping jaws as the very air shook with its thundering cry. Shadows danced across dark clouds from the light of its flames, and Matthew's heart sank, bitterly.

Yes. He had been abandoned. Where once there lived in his breast a warm and comforting presence there was now an empty void, and it called to him. Death was calling him to join his brethren. It sapped at the last flickering embers of his strength, bidding them to darken and be silent.

...but not yet.

From the void in his chest, something now began to grow. Hatred, like venom, flowed through his body as he embraced his end. Just as he had reached out for the goddesses warmth a hundred times before, he now reached into the void within is soul, letting his hatred fuel him as he stared into the fiery hell that burned all around.

Goddess be damned! Virtue had failed! Let all the dark forces of the world take him, let every ounce of blood be spilled, let hell itself come forth to claim him, still this demon would die today! Let vengeance be his virtue!

His hatred became a cold but powerful thing as he stood, warm blood running down from the wound in his arm to trickle in a steady stream onto his blade. The shimmering blue and white steel which had been born of the holy fires in the temple of the goddess, it's pristine beauty now marred by his life's blood.

His foe, reveling in its victory, spread its massive arms wide as it continued to bellow into the heavens.

He advanced. Charred earth crunched beneath his boots. His hatred writhed within him, and as he reached out to the Aether, the flow of the world's life force, the gift of the goddess, he felt something else. A dark pulse. A silent, powerful answer to the beat of life. He reached for that darkness now, and, as he felt for it in the void, the winds began to shift around him. He felt his own life force, the Aether within him as it was drawn to the void. He felt the darkness answer, and he understood. This power required sacrifice.

Ash and smoke whirled as the now fierce winds howled about him like demons, and still he coaxed the darkness forth, drawing it into himself as he advanced on his enemy. All the while, his once pure, silver armor began to change. Coated in his brothers' blood, the raining ash born on the winds melted into it, staining it darker and darker until it shimmered in the light of the burning world, the ruddy black armor of a failed paladin, a fallen champion, a dark knight.

The monstrous lord of embers, Ifrit, perched atop the burning ruins took notice now. The clanging of his boots upon the blasted stones beneath the beast rang above the clamor. The creature stood, reared back on his powerful legs, and as it lept into the air the building collapsed beneath it, raining dust and debris in a cloud which spread outward in a hail of stone and mortar.

As he closed the last few yards between himself and his foe, Matthew's footfalls quickened with the beating in his chest. The demon roared, and a great plume of wicked, shrieking flame engulfed him, his flesh searing beneath his armor, his eyes going dark and running down his face like jelly. The pain pierced down to his very core, but through it all his wrath endured. Even as flesh and bone failed against the onslaught he could feel the power of the darkness coursing through him, preserving him, and so on he charged, a carnal thing of blind and furious power.

Even without eyes, he could see the demon's life force before him as he thundered toward it, his own flesh crackling and burning. From his ragged throat he roared his fury back to the beast, drawing the void into his blade as he burst free of its flames and drove its steel forward into the creature's massive chest.

The its roar now became a thing of pain as it reeled backward. Matthew's blade tore free, and the void within claimed a price from mighty Ifrit. It fed on the creature's life, and that force passed through Matthew before it was consumed by the darkness within. His wounds were sealed, his eyes restored. The demon lunged backward, landing on a hill beyond the burning town, a mighty wound gaping in its chest.

"No, creature, you will not escape," Matthew whispered.

Its blood still clung heavily to the dark knight's sword, and knowledge of a fell ritual filled Matthew's mind. He swept his hand across his blade, slitting his palm and mixing his blood with that of the creature. He felt their life force mix for a moment, and as it did, he called forth the void once again. It passed through him, baited, but he directed it forth, toward the fleeing creature, and like a ravenous beast the darkness erupted from him in pursuit of its prey.

With Matthew at its source it surged forth in a torrent, and from its center all the world was robbed of color, reduced to ghostly shades of white and gray and black. All but the stars and moon, the heavenly lights shone a dark and sickly red.

Above, the shadow fell upon the lord of embers, snuffing out its life like a candle in a storm. It had not time to cry out, its fury extinguished as its soul was torn from its flesh, and down its body fell to shake the land with its thunderous descent. As it did, the shadow that clung to its corpse rebounded upon Matthew, returning to its source, and as it rushed back into the void within, it took from him a piece of his own life force. He fell to his knees as the last of it passed through him, chilled to the bone and left shaking as he leaned forward on his sword.

He looked upon the massive corpse of his foe on the hill, silhouetted by the moon and stars, but he felt no satisfaction. The beast was dead. Slain by his hatred, but the victory was hollow. His brothers had still died in vain, sacrificed for an uncaring deity. The void within him hungered. It would not be slated, not until his vengeance was complete.

Ifrit was a spirit made manifest. A summoner was required for the deed, and could draw it out again in time. Not even death will hold these immortal abominations, but this summoner, whoever it may be, would join their creature in the void. Matthew's blade would drink of their blood.

Then...then he would seek out this goddess. He would see if those that called themselves gods could be killed!


End file.
